The Cult
by DaLucaray
Summary: In a place far away from the Clans and the Tribe, a different group of cats life. This group have a strange, more violent culture. They are the Cult of Blood and the Cult of Night. Jayfeather has now entered this bloodthirsty world of the Cult
1. Prolouge

A striped gray cat with shining blue eyes walked along a barren, rocky path. Rocks and shrubs jutted up everywhere, casting shadows on the ground below. His face gave away a slight confusion, mixed with curiosity, like an apprentice whose mentor had decided to take a different approach to the daily lesson. He was clearly out of place here, for one thing, more a ray of sunlight than a solid object. He stopped as he came across a large clearing, filled with cats. Jayfeather strode out into it, knowing that he was invisible to the cats surrounding him.

A large brown cat was staring down from a large rock jutting out from the ground. In his sight, a small, scared-looking tortoiseshell. "Squeal, are ready to present yourself to the Cult of No Fighting, and let them decide your fate, to be a Fighter, and fight for the Cult of Night?"

"I am"

The brown cat continued. "Gust of Wind, you have been the Master of Squeal. Are you willing to complete the ceremony?"

A grey, thin-haired tom stepped up. "I am"

"Then let the ceremony begin!" _But that _was _the ceremony. _Jayfeather pondered. He watched to see what happened. Gust of wind circled Squeal, whose eyes got wider and wider. Suddenly, Gust of Wind snarled, and leapt onto Squeal. He slashed at her throat, and the she-cat fell limp. She was dead.

**This is a new story I've been thinking about for a while. Tell me if I should continue this, work on Tigerheart, or do both.**


	2. Prolouge Part 2

Jayfeather recoiled in horror. _What's going on? _Squeal lay lying on the ground, blood pouring from her neck. The rest of the cats were staring at her silently. Jayfeather tried to run, but his legs refused to move a mouselength. Then Squeal started stirring. She shook herself off, and stared triumphantly at the rest of the cats, who cheered for the she-cat. The large brown cat who seemed to be leader spoke.

"The Cult of No Fighting has spoken it's approval. Squeal has received her 5 lives. From this day on, she shall now be known as Squeal of Prey!" The other cats cheered louder and louder, until the sounds echoed across the wasteland. Gradually they began to die down, being replaced by muttering and yawning. Jayfeather began to wake up, bracing himself for blindness as the world grew darker and darker.

"You are not leaving just yet." A stern voice jolted away the darkness in a flash, and Jayfeather found he was not in the barren wasteland he was moments ago, but a lush forest filled with cats. "Why are you here? You have intruded on the sacred ritual of the Cults." Jayfeather opened his mouth to speak. "DO NOT ANSWER THAT QUESTION." The voice, once a single cat, was replaced with the voice of a legion "For trespassing on our rituals, you shall be sentenced to severe punishment! You will now live the life of a Cult cat until death. Then you shall return from whence you came!" Jayfeather saw the cats swirl around him, until they were nothing but blurs, a fluid form circling him, pulling him down. He felt his body fading away, until there was nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

He could feel his littermates squirming around him, some of them, he knew, already had their eyes open. He decide he was ready to try it. The kit opened his eyes. The nursery walls towered above him, and he leaned back in awe, only to fall over. A nearby she-cat, who, by scent, he recognized as his mother, chuckled. "Hello Wing. I see you've opened your eyes." So his name was Wing. He tested it out.

"Wiiiiiiinnn-guh. Wing." It was funny sounding. _No! Stop with the foolishness! I need to get back to the Clan! _For a fleeting moment, Wing had a shimmer of… something he can't explain. Shock. The feeling of urgency. Fear. Anger. The feeling was impossible to hold on to, and soon slipped away like a tadpole in a kit's paws. He soon forgot it, lost in the new experiences. He jumped at a butterfly. He splashed a puddle, squeaking with glee. _Stop this foolishness! I'm not a kit! _Wing looked around for the source of the voice, and the feeling started to slip away again. He decided to ask someone about it.

"Hey, hey!" he squeaked at a large dark tom.

"Oh, joy. The kits can talk now." There was something in his tone that made Wing unhappy, reminding him of when an older kit hit him by accident while playing around.

"Can I ask?"

"Ask what?"

"An ask." This seemed too stump the dark cat. "You know, an ask!" The big tom scrutinized Wing for awhile, to eventually nod.

"Okay."

"Sometimes I feel funny. It feels like when my Mom is gone and I'm hungry, a bit."

"Maybe you should see the Cleanser. Probably just some sickness. I hope it's not contagious." All these words sounded strange to Wing. Cleanser? Contagious? He turned to ask the big cat, but he was gone. Not soon after he had forgotten the strange feeling again. He spent the rest of the day playing around with his siblings, and soon found himself being shepherded into the nursery by his mother.

Jayfeather woke up again to darkness. He could remember Wing's day as clearly as if it just happened to him. _I suppose it's over._ He went on with his day, but he couldn't stop wondering about Wing. At the end of the day, he settled into his nest, almost having forgotten last night.

Until Wing woke up.


End file.
